Excedrin Headache Number Five
by melraemorgan
Summary: Something is terribly wrong with Jane, Cho is trying to save him, Lisbon stands aside... Is help is on the way?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here's a variation on a theme I think I like … Jane whump. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

Whatever you do… Don't forget to READ AND REVIEW!

Teresa Lisbon found herself wondering why she even bothered trying to rein Patrick Jane in. He was the most irritating, arrogant, sneaky man she had ever known. They had a case and needed to hit the road but Jane was in the bathroom. He'd been in there forever, probably admiring himself and primping. God knows it must take work to make hair look that glorious. She was about to send Rigsby in after him, when he strolled out smiling. Lisbon was so miffed she couldn't speak.

"Shall we go?" he turned on his best toothy smile and casually walked past the waiting team.

They all got in the Suburban, Van Pelt was staying behind to handle the IT stuff so there was ample room. Jane, climbed in behind the driver's seat, and asked, "Where's the case?" sounding quite chipper.

His sunny tone was bugging the crap out of Lisbon. "Vallejo "she snarled.

"Vallejo, isn't that where the Zodiac killer is from?" Rigsby chirped excitedly.

"Yes Rigsby. Look we have a three hour drive ahead of us and it is still pretty early, why don't you guys take a nap."

Rigsby laughed, "Jane's already asleep!"

"Thank God for small favors." Maybe she could get through this hellatious morning traffic without Jane driving her insane.

Jane was not asleep; he was almost unconscious from the pain, in his head. He felt it coming, saw the aura… the whole nine yards. That was why he was in the bathroom for so long; he was working up to coming out, when the migraine struck him full force while washing his hands.

He had plenty of migraines before, but this one came on like a freight train, plowing a new railway through his skull. Usually his migraines were more of a slow tightening process, like a vice that builds and builds until you feel like you are going to puke. He spent a large portion of his time in the bathroom this morning doing just that, not fixing his hair, but retching, each spasm bringing new heights of pain in his head.

Now he found himself, sitting in the nearly blinding sun, sun that even the heavily tinted windows could not mitigate enough, to soften Jane's agony. He was trying desperately to hide his situation from the team, and stay working. This work was all he had; these people were the only people in his life.

Regardless of his splitting headache he couldn't face being alone in that house all day, the night time was hell enough. He was vaguely aware of a bead of sweat trickling down his brow onto his cheek, he had no desire to do anything about the tickling sensation for fear of what moving would bring, but he didn't want Rigsby to notice he was sweating .So he swiped his hand across his forehead. The movement brought with it an explosion of white-hot torment filling his brain. He stifled a groan, there was something wrong with this headache; it was too different, and too intense. Nevertheless, Jane wasn't coherent enough to do anything about it. He was beginning to regret his decision to keep his headache to himself.

An hour into the miserable drive, Jane was unconscious. No one noticed… no one saw how ghostly pale he had become, his lips faded to white. They didn't see there was a problem until Lisbon pulled into a service station forty-five minutes later, by then Patrick Jane was in serious trouble, his respirations were speeding up, his body was struggling, it was trying to get more oxygen. His heart was beginning to beat erratically, things were becoming desperate, but no one had noticed.

Lisbon, parked the Suburban next to the pump, she had to go in to pay, as the pumps seemed to be circa nineteen-seventy. Once the pump was on, Rigsby filled the tank. Cho got out to buy a bottle of water.

"Jane, you want a bottle of water?" Cho turned around and looked at Jane for the first time that day 'Crap' He sped around to the other side of the car yelling "Lisbon call 911!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter two…WHOOO HOOOO!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

PWETTY PWEEZE READ AND REVIEW!!!!

Cho threw the door open and pulled the now slightly cyanotic Jane onto the ground and started trying to help him. He went through the ABC's: Airway-Breathing-Circulation, he had a pulse but it was thready, his airway was clear but his breathing was very erratic. Jane was headed for respiratory arrest.

"What the hell is going on?" Lisbon yelled, when she heard Cho's cry. She dialed as she ran over to see what was wrong.

Cho said "He's dying; get them to send a chopper."

Rigsby pulled the first aid kit from the back of the Suburban, while Cho monitored the stricken Jane.

They heard Lisbon telling the dispatch she didn't care what they considered flight worthy, if they didn't get a helicopter here in ten minutes she would sic the CBI and the AG's office on them. That got them; the helo was on its way.

Rigsby explored the kit, antiseptic, bandages, tourniquet, an epi pen, Bacitracin, CPR mask and an ambo bag, and a battery-powered defibrillator. If they had to, they could do a field tracheotomy. Cho looked over at him, and conveyed just how screwed they were.

"He's tanking, fast. Get ready we're going to lose his airway in a minute."

"I'm ready." 'Where the hell, are they?' He was really dreading the thought of having to give Jane a trach at the gas pump.

Lisbon stood staring in horror, at the tableau in front of her. Paralyzed with shock, she tried to reconcile Jane with the ashen limp figure before her. She was about to call the dispatch again when she heard the faint sound of rotor blades over the hill. "Oh thank God!"

Rigsby saw the chopper coming in, and realized it needed more room. He jumped in the SUV and moved next to the building. He ran back head down, the sound of the rotor's deafening. For a moment, he was back in Basra… 'No time for flashbacks Wayne…'

The flight nurse and the EMT were assessing Jane.

"Get him on the gurney!" he yelled to Cho and Rigsby. Time was of the essence. Cho gave them the rundown of Jane's symptoms.

"How long has he been like this?"The medic asked, trying to get a patient history.

Cho was embarrassed to reply, "We're not sure. Could have been two hours maybe, we thought he was asleep."

They had an IV in him and he was intubated, in less than a two minutes. The flight nurse did a quick neuro check with his penlight. "Left pupil blown, right sluggish", he gave Jane a sternal rub "no response to pain. Got to be neurological." They hoisted Jane into the helicopter. "One of you can come, but the rest have to meet us at the hospital. It's Concord Kaiser Permanente." Lisbon climbed in after and they were off the ground in seconds.

Rigsby and Cho looked at one another, concern and disbelief in their eyes. Wordlessly they walked to the SUV and left with a screech of rubber.

* * *

Jane was on the beach, he was playing in the sand with his daughter, his wife, reading novel. The sun was a golden hue that could only be found in California, so bright and warm it hurt his eyes. A part of him was an external observer, the other part was living in that exact moment, blissfully ignorant of the horrific events to come, safe from the nightmare of his waking life. It was a good day. It felt so real, he wanted to hold it in his hands protect it from the harshness of the truth. But even in California it rains…

There is that moment before a downpour, when you see the rain falling nearby, dark, cold and foreboding, while just a few feet away, you stand warm, safe in the sun. The world is broken in two; you see both sides, the dark and the light.

He remembered the storm from that day, it was freakish in the way it seemed to appear from nowhere. One minute they were basking in the sun, the next they were fleeing the maelstrom. Everything was happening as it did before, until it came time to run for the car. His wife scooped their daughter up from the sand and ran towards the sun, his little girl waving to him as they went. Patrick was desperate to run after them, to elude the coming tempest. His feet would not move. He was held in place by the future, he could not follow them to the sun. He must endure the storm…

* * *

Things in the helicopter were not going well. Jane began seizing five minutes after they took off. Lisbon fought the urge to vomit, as she watched her favorite charlatan thrashing about, dying. The seizure lasted an agonizing three minutes. Two minutes later the skids of the chopper were touching down on the hospital's helipad, two nurses and an Attending ER doctor greeted them. The flight nurse ran down his symptoms. The litany of Jane's problems was staggering.

By the time, they reached the trauma room he began seizing again. "Get neuro down here NOW!" the attending yelled. "Portable of his head… Wait no time, his ICP is through the roof! Take him to the OR and prep him for a craniotomy, tell whoever s on call in neuro to meet us in the OR!"

Lisbon observed the balletic chaos in front of her detached, as if she were dreaming. She began to shake, the post-adrenalin surge crash hitting her, she walked to the waiting room, she needed to sit down, and the hospital would need Jane's information anyway. All she could do is wait… Lisbon hated waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here you go my loyal fans!!! I am loving your reviews. Reviews fuel the story. I have many stories in the works and the ones I am having reviewed most will get my greatest attention.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist

Rigsby, and Cho found Lisbon in the waiting room outside the ER trying to handle Jane's admission. She was on the verge of pulling her gun on the poor woman trying to handle the increasingly ill-tempered agent. Cho walked over in an effort to calm the situation down.

"Boss."

"Cho these idiots say that Jane's insurance won't cover his admission because he didn't have pre-authorization!" Lisbon was breathing fire.

"Boss, calm down, I'm sure this nice woman knows that Jane didn't plan to be dying today, and she is very capable of telling the insurance company." His words were kind but his tone was menacing.

They walked away from the counter to the chairs where Rigsby was waiting.

"What happened in the chopper?" Rigsby asked.

Lisbon's face fell "Jane started seizing, it lasted for three minutes. He was dying."

She got up and walked away.

Rigsby exhaled "I can't believe this."

Cho was silent as usual.

Meanwhile, in the OR the neurosurgeon was drilling holes in Jane's skull, and the ER attending was trying to keep him alive. The nurses had shaved his flaxen mane off, and the anesthesiologist put him under within minutes. The bur holes complete, blood and CSF began pouring out.

"Damn, this is a lot of blood. Does this guy have a TBI?" Dr. Crandall the neurosurgeon asked.

Dr. Halleck the attending replied. "No history of head trauma, colleague said he seemed fine, and thought he was sleeping. Didn't have time for films, he was tanking."

The fluid from Jane's head was now running clear. "Looks good, we'll put a monitor in, and do CT and MRI when he's stable."

"What about seizure meds and EEG?" Halleck asked.

"Start him on carbamazapine; wait on the EEG 'til we have the films."

"Okay, thanks Pete. I'll call you when we get them."

"Take him to recovery until I can order the CT and the MRI but keep an eye on him, I'm worried he may head south again." Jared Halleck told the scrub nurse.

………………………………………….

Patrick Jane was unaware of what was being done to his head. He was back on the beach, the weather was much milder than it was before, but his wife and daughter did not return. The whole world painted with a grey palette, only enhanced his feeling of loss. Jane began walking, in an effort to return to the sun. He walked for what seemed like hours, all alone not even seagulls for company. He felt bereft, the familiar pang of grief ached in his chest. This grey world was dragging him back into the abyss. Resigned to the emptiness of this place, Jane sat down in the sand and gave up…

Dr. Halleck waited in the call room for the MRI and CT results, he was sure he knew what they would find. He didn't relish the thought of telling that poor woman what it was that was killing her friend. The man seemed to be close to his own age, and it bothered him more than it would normally. Turning forty the week before probably had something to do with it.

When Jane was returned to his room, the nurse did a rudimentary neuro check, not liking what she saw she paged Dr. Halleck. The results of the doctor's examination showed his ICP had improved, but his coma had deepened. Dr. Halleck, called radiology to rush the film results and let Dr. Crandall know the change in Jane's status.

"That craniotomy patient has fallen on to a 3 on the GCS."

"Hmmm he should be improving. Are you sure he didn't hit his head?" Crandall asked.

"No, but there is no sign of bruising or abrasions, the skull as you know was fully intact. I'm thinking primary brain tumor given his age." The ER doc replied.

"Yeah, me too."

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, Halleck turned to find Donna his charge nurse with the results of the scans "Hang on got the report here." He skimmed through to the findings "5cm tumor left hemisphere, temporal lobe… probable grade II, or III, astrocytoma….Damn."

"Well, that explains the seizures. He's probably having complex partial seizures as well, admit him and I'll take over the case."

"Okay, thanks Pete." Halleck headed out to find the friend and tell her what was going on.

Halleck found the three agents sitting in restive silence. He recognized the woman from the helipad. So focused his eyes on her, as he stuck out his hand and said "Hello, I'm Dr. Halleck I believe you're friends of Mr. Jane?"

"We're his colleagues with the CBI. Look doctor don't beat around the bush tell us what's wrong with him?" Lisbon said tersely.

"Well then I will agent. First off let me start by saying Mr. Jane is currently stable but unconscious. As you know he is very ill, and it was touch and go for a few minutes there. Anyway, he's going to be here for the foreseeable future." Jared paused dreading the next words out of his mouth.

"What does he have?" Cho asked in his standard annoyed monotone.

"I'm afraid the news isn't good. Mr. Jane has a mass on the left side of his brain, in the temporal lobe region. What we think happened is he must have injured his head recently, perhaps a very mild concussion and caused a minor bleed in the brain around the tumor where the tissue is weakened. The head injury was so mild we couldn't see evidence of trauma anywhere when we shaved his hair off. The reason he was coding is the increased cranial pressure, he was critical when he came in so we had to do an emergency craniotomy."

All Lisbon heard him say was "tumor" and "shaved his hair off". Rigsby paled and even Cho seemed moved by the news.

"You shaved his hair off.," she whispered.

Cho said "It was the baseball."

"Baseball?"

"Yes, on our last case Jane received a mild concussion from being hit on the head by a baseball. The doc said he was fine."

"That certainly sounds like the catalyst."

Rigsby asked the doctor "Can we see him?"

"In a couple of hours, right now we're moving him upstairs to the ICU where we can monitor him closely. I'll be honest, he doesn't look good right now and he is in a coma so prepare yourselves."

"Are you going to do a biopsy?" Cho asked.

"Yes, but I'll let the neurosurgeon walk you through that. Depending on those results, we may be transferring him to oncology. I'm sorry about your friend, I know this is hard to hear. But we're hopeful we caught it in time for successful treatment."

Lisbon said "Thank you doctor," dismissing him. He nodded and walked away.

The trio sat pensively; trying to take the information, they just heard and put in a box that would allow them to get on with their jobs. Lisbon broke the silence. "Cho did you call CBI and let them know what happened?" He nodded. "Good. Rigsby, call and find us a hotel room. I'm going to go see him."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay guys this is a huge chapter, in many ways. I hope you like it.

Whatever you do… Don't forget to READ and REVIEW!!!!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

* * *

It was two weeks later and Patrick Jane was still unconscious. However, he was closer to waking up than any other day before. Dr. Crandall was still his neurosurgeon but when the pathology report came back with the results they had expected, Jane was given to oncology. Time was becoming a factor, and they needed him to wake up to discuss his options. If he didn't wake up soon there would be nothing anyone could do.

Teresa Lisbon, sat at her desk staring through the window, at Jane's couch, she couldn't concentrate on anything. Jane had no family but the CBI, so the doctor's kept Lisbon abreast of what was happening. Her phone rang breaking her reverie, it was Jane's oncologist, Dr. Hanh.

"Lisbon…"

"Hello agent Lisbon this is Dr. Hanh, Mr. Jane's oncologist. I have some news for you."

She swallowed hard, her mouth was dry as the Mojave as she asked "What news? "

"Well agent it seems our Mr. Jane has woken up."

She could hear the woman's concern through the phone.

"I'm on my way; I'll be there in two hours."

"Oh agent…." A dial tone was the only response she received.

"Cho get the van, we're all going. Van Pelt, and Rigsby get everyone's away bags and meet me in the parking lot."

Cho almost said 'we don't need the van, there are only 4 of us'. But he kept his mouth shut, no need to remind the boss about Jane.

Lisbon walked into the office of the man that took Minnelli's place, Cole Masterson. Masterson was a good boss but not used to the way the team ran itself, he wanted feedback on everything. He was a damn good looking man as well .His short salt and pepper hair made his blue eyes stand out, he had a warm smile , and a voice that caressed you with its manliness. If he weren't her boss ….

"Sir, I just got news that Jane's waking up. We're going to head up there."

He looked at her over the top of his reading glasses, and said "Lisbon, how long are you going to keep doing this? He's got cancer, and a BRAIN tumor the size of a lime. As sad as it is Patrick Jane, will most likely, never come back to CBI." He winced at her reaction.

"Look I know you guys are a family, Virgil gave me all the gory details, but this will have to be the last time you all go up there in an official vehicle."

Lisbon couldn't speak she was so angry at the words her boss had said. However, she couldn't deny the truth in them.

The team rode in silence, Cho didn't read, Rigsby didn't eat, and Van Pelt didn't surf the web. No one felt like talking and their usual rhythm was off. The sat and stared out the windows at the landscape, each with their own thoughts, Van Pelt prayed, Cho was… Cho, and Rigsby kept torturing himself for not noticing Jane's illness sooner.

Lisbon, was flying down the highway west toward Concord, she was replaying events in her head, times when she might have seen something, a clue. There had to be some evidence prior to Jane's collapse, his tumor is huge. What did I miss? The one thing that she could say might, have been a sign was Jane's headaches, but he never complained, he just lay on the couch with his arm draped over his eyes. Another thought that was very troubling, was that after Jane almost was blown up, and they did the scans of his head, there was nothing wrong on the films. Which suggested to Lisbon that his cancer must be fast growing and aggressive, but, what did she know, she was just a cop.

In Concord, in an ICU room sat a man who had just woken up from a two week nap, his hair was a fine buzz cut , he was covered in wires, tubes and connected to equipment. The thing that was irksome enough to wake him was the tube down his throat, it hurt and he was breathing against the ventilator. He started to panic, he tried to get the tube out himself but his hands were in soft restraints, his anxiety produced a rapid heart rate, his monitor was squealing in alarm as his heart rate kept climbing, the ventilator was beeping its complaint as well. Though to him it seemed ages, his nurse was there in less than five minutes.

Brenda, was surprised to see her patient awake and struggling to rid himself of the tube helping him to breathe. She pushed the button on the wall and called the nurses' station, for help then gave him a dose of ativan that wouldn't knock him out, but it would make him more relaxed. Fortunately, Dr. Crandall anticipated the need for the anxiolytic. She then began to help him by turning the vent way down, she couldn't extubate him without a doctor.

"Mr. Jane, it's okay, you're in the hospital. You have been on a ventilator for some time, I can't remove the tube, your doctor has to." Brenda said in a soothing tone.

The pressure from the air being forced into his lungs lessened and he didn't feel quite as suffocated. He looked at the nurse and nodded his head toward his arm.

"There that's better isn't it, Mr. Jane." She soothed. She saw him gesturing with his head to the restraints. "Do you promise not to pull anything out?" He shook his head earnestly.

"Okay, I'll untie you." Brenda removed the soft restraints and saw the look of gratitude in his eyes.

"You're welcome, Mr. Jane." He shook his head again, and felt his head protest.

"What is it Mr. Jane?" He pointed to himself. "Mr. Jane, Patrick Jane." She said. He shook his head again the pain intensifying, and held his forefinger up like the number one sign. Brenda wasn't new to translating for people on the ventilator and quickly figured out what he wanted.

"Okay then, Patrick."

He smiled and nodded yes.

"Well Patrick, I am going to page your doctors, do you want the TV on?" he shook no, and she walked out.

Now able to relax and take in his surroundings, he looked around the room.

'Definitely a Hospital, probably ICU.' Someone sent him flowers. It seemed, a few someones had.

' What the hell am I doing here?' He tried to think about the last thing he remembered. He remembered he had a headache, it made him sick, they were on their way somewhere…

'Did I get in the car?'

He couldn't remember anything after walking towards the elevator with the team, Lisbon was mad at him for taking so long. He didn't tell her why.

Patrick Jane was not a stupid man, he had already deduced that this had something to do with his headache. He thought about it for a minute…'Must have been the baseball…' The medic had cleared him, but only because Jane kept the blackouts he was having to himself.

'That's it, the concussion was worse than I thought'

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jane knew he was fooling himself. This was much bigger than a migraine, or a concussion. But, he wasn't ready to face whatever it was.

Unfortunately his denial was about to be blown away, by the next person who walked into his room.

Through the haze of the ativan Jane began to notice his head was aching not just the inside, but the outside as well. At first it was just a muffled sort of pain, but as each passing moment went the pain grew sharper, and more intense. He began to sweat,and his brain was on fire. The monitor picked up on his distress, and began beeping faster. Somewhere within the white haze of agony, and his half closed eyes, he saw a shape, two shapes.

One of them said "Good morning Mr. Jane we're glad to see you awake. I'm Dr. Crandall your neurosurgeon, and this is Dr. Hanh your… _other _doctor."

Dr. Hanh's lovely arching eyebrows met in the middle in concern, from noticing the change in his vitals and the clenched face of her patient. Being an oncologist she recognized the signs of intense pain on Jane's face.

He heard the tiny shape say to the big one "Pete he's in pain, should I give him anything?"

"Yeah, I bet he's in a hell of a lot of pain. It should be all right, but he has to keep the vent just in case.

The tiny shape came closer , he could make out the silhouette of petite woman, that was all, he was in too much pain to open his eyes all the way. The lights were killing him.

The woman shape said softly "Mr. Jane, I can see you are in tremendous pain, and I want to alleviate it some, with morphine. If I do you will have to stay on the vent while you are on it. Do you want the drugs?"

Morphine, somehow that got through, it sent a thrill through him. He longed for the sweet feeling of it. 'You idiot, you can't go down that road again.' He shook his head no, and a look of agony and fear came on him. He pointed furiously at his stomach.

"The pain is making you nauseous. Do you feel like you are going to vomit?"

He gave a barely perceptive nod yes, he was afraid if he moved he would puke.

The big shape said to the little shape "We better extubate him quickly."

A booming voice said "When I tell you to, cough. Understand?" He nodded again.

"Okay this is going to hurt some."

Jane felt a tugging sensation that felt like his throat was being sliced with a Ginsu knife.

"COUGH, NOW."

Just as Crandall pulled the tube out he began vomiting. Hanh had grabbed the emesis basin on the table and stuck it under him. There wasn't much vomit, it was all bile and it burned like a bitch on his tortured throat. He had dry heaves, and each contraction made her head feel as if someone had set off fireworks in there.

The nurse had brought them a cup of ice in anticipation, and Dr. Hanh gave him some. It was heaven on his throat. But did nothing to quell the cannon fire in his brain

He tried to talk, it hurt. Everything hurt, but his headache, his head was a pain that could not be described, it was a living pulsing thing, a monster eating its way out of his skull. Finally, with herculean effort he croaked "Thank you."

"You're welcome, are you sure you don't want some morphine?" she asked kindly.

"No, no opiates." He squawked.

"Okay I understand, we have some non-narcotic drugs for pain we can give you. But you can always change your mind and ask for the narcotics if you need it. On a scale of one to ten one being a little pain to ten being the worst pain you've ever felt."

He said "Ten,"

Jane looked at the big male doctor…Crandall. He had a big envelope with films of some kind inside.

"What's that?"

"This is what we are here about, all of us Mr. Jane. These are pictures of your brain. He walked closer to the bed.

Jane had a sinking feeling, suddenly he didn't want to know. He just wanted to try to sleep through his migraine.

"There is a large tumor on your left temporal lobe, unfortunately it is quite aggressive, and malignant."

Mentally Jane had his fingers in his ears singing Jingle Bells, he didn't want to hear any more. He felt a warm soft touch on his arm. It was the woman doctor. It broke him, that touch and the tears began sneaking out of his eyes and running down his face.

"Mr. Jane" she said softly.

"Patrick" he said.

"Patrick, don't jump to any conclusions we have a plan that we think will knock this cancer out. "

He was embarrassed by his unseemly display of emotion, wiped his tears away ignoring the urge to puke from the way it drove a spike through his head .

"Okay, tell me."

Well , Mr. erm Patrick, I need to go in and remove as much of the tumor as possible, it can be a little tricky because these types of tumors often have fingers that go down into the brain. We caught this at a point where there are probably some of these fingers already there. Because of where the tumor is we cannot remove brain tissue, it would affect your ability to function. I'm going to do my very best to get all of this tumor, and my best is pretty damn good." He said confidently. "Dr. Hanh."

Her feminine voice was a welcome change to Crandall's, but as all this was going on his head got worse, and he was getting more tired, he wouldn't last much longer.

"Patrick, I am your oncologist as I said, and I am going to tell you about what your options are. The first option is to do nothing, the consequence of choosing this, would be death…"

"How long?"

"Shhh Patrick, I will tell you all of these things just be a little patient…"She winked at her pun, and all three smiled briefly.

"Where was I…Oh, yes if you choose option one, judging from the amount of pain you're in, and the continual increase in your intracranial pressure. Three weeks, maybe less, most of which would be spent in utter agony or a coma… she paused for effect.

Option two, is to let Dr. Crandall do the resection and have about a year to two years with only eighteen months of them good.

Option three is the resection, plus a course of radiation, which would put survival at about three to five years, to complete remission, but that is a very rare outcome.

And finally option four, the one I favor. It has been suggested that a course of chemotherapy in conjunction with the resection and radiation will increase survivability to beyond five years and possibly, complete remission, though the odds for that are still very slim."

He sat there absorbing everything they had told him, he looked at every angle in silence while they waited.

"Normally we would give you some time to think about this, but your situation is critical and time is of the essence." Dr. Hanh gently prodded.

Jane understood, but the pain he was in, made his thought processes slower than usual.

Finally he spoke.

" I'll take door number one. I don't want treatment. But,I have changed my mind about the morphine."

The doctors were floored. They hadn't expected this at all. They just gaped at him stunned.

"Doctor, I don't mean to be rude but could you please get me that morphine, this pain is killing me…" he smirked at his own pun.

He started to black out , his vision graying at the edges. He closed his eyes and heard Hanh leave the room.

Pete Crandall couldn't believe what he had heard. What could be so bad in this man's life that he wouldn't even try for eighteen months. He stood there sizing the man up, before he said…

"What are you running from?"

Jane groaned and opened his eyes. "Living… obviously." The reply was a bit snarky.

"Well it's your life... Whatever the reason , you shouldn't give up so quickly. I'm going to give you until tomorrow morning to think about this."

"Fine, but I won't change my decision."He closed his eyes again, 'Oh GOD the pain…I can't take this…where is the damn morphine.'

"Fair enough…" Crandall left the room.

'Why did they leave the lights on, it's cruel.' He turned his head towards the door at the sound of someone entering the room. He didn't bother to look, he wasn't going to open his eyes until he got his morphine, and they turned off the lights. Whoever it was, sat something down on his heard a weird sound, a bumping sound… balloons, that's what it was.

"Lisbon, is that you?" he opened his eyes. He was alone again, but sitting before him was an arrangement full of yellow flowers, above the basket tied to its handle was three mylar balloons. One was a "get well soon".

Another, was a '"thinking of you"balloon…

The third, was a huge, yellow… smiley face… that said "have a nice day".

His heart skipped, and there was a mixture of cold fear and fury in his gut. The adrenalin coursing through his veins pushed the pain back towards the manageable end of the spectrum. His hand trembling, he reached for the card.

Patrick,

I was so sorry to hear about your illness. I understand it is quite serious.

I hope you feel better soon; we have many more games to play.

Your Friend,

Red John

PS. If you take the coward's way out or refuse treatment…

I will kill Agent Lisbon and your whole team...

… Very, very, slowly.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Are you still with me my frisky ponies? Read and Review.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

Jane began shaking in fury. He pressed the call button, and started to try to get up. He was tethered to monitors, IV's and a Foley catheter. Unpleasant, but he would pull it out himself if he had to.

Brenda arrived in the room a syringe in her hand, and a small bottle of liquid. She was flabbergasted to see Patrick removing the leads from his chest, the BP cuff, and was about to remove the IV,before she stopped him.

"Patrick! What are you doing? Get back into bed! You are in no shape to be getting up!"

Adrenalin is great stuff, but even it was no match for the bastard in Jane's head, "I'm..what was I going to say, oh yeah I'm leaving AMA." He became so dizzy he was having trouble orienting, his vision began to grey out again, but this time he passed out. Jane had his feet hanging over the side of his bed trying to remove the catheter in the least painful way, when Brenda came in, as he lost consciousness he listed to the side and started falling off the bed.

"Oh my god! HELP!" Brenda screamed and ran to Jane trying desperately to catch him before he hit the floor. The last thing this patient needed was another head injury. Unfortunately, for both of them Brenda wasn't fast enough or strong enough, to keep Patrick from hitting the floor with an ominous smack as his head hit the floor.

Lisbon and the gang were walking towards Jane's room when they heard the woman scream for help, they started running, Lisbon pulled her weapon out as she ran. When they came into the room seconds later they found the nurse kneeling over him trying to assess whether he was okay .

"What the hell…" Lisbon said as she ran over to Jane, forgetting she still had her gun out.

"Boss,put it away." Cho said calmly.

The room filled with people as nurses and patient care tech's came streaming in to help.

They were trying to lift him onto the now lowered bed, when he began seizing. The seizure gripped his body and flung him around like a rag doll.

Brenda shouted "Give him 2cc's ativan, now!" She was hanging on to Patrick trying to keep him from hurting himself more.

"Page Dr. Crandall!" Brenda yelled out.

A voice said "Already did, he's on his way…"

"What the hell?" Came from the doorway, as Dr. Crandall arrived. He pushed all the extra staff out of his way, and ran to his patient.

He looked down at the seizing Jane and asked "How long has this been going on?" A voice from the crowd of scrubs said "Two minutes thirty."

"We gave 2cc's ativan 1mg,IVpush, about three minutes ago." Brenda said.

The seizure seemed to have lessened in ferocity, and Jane's body became slack.

A voice said "3 minutes ,12 seconds"

Crandall pulled each eyelid open and shone his penlight in Jane's eyes. "Damn." He said softly.

"Let's get him on the bed, he's bleeding in his brain again. Just make him comfortable, give him the morphine, it won't be long." Crandall sounded defeated.

"What do you mean?" Lisbon asked, panic in her voice."What are you saying?"

"Agent Lisbon, I'm sorry to tell you but, Patrick refused treatment for his tumor."

"HE WHAT!!!" Lisbon shrieked. "THE HELL HE DID!!!"

"I 'm afraid it's true. I am so sorry." She heard Dr. Hanh's voice say as she came up to the scene by the bed.

Van Pelt had been quiet through all of this until now. "He is too depressed to make that decision. Did he sign a DNR?"

"No, he didn't…" Crandall was beginning to see a way out of this disaster.

"Dr. Hanh, in your expert opinion as an oncologist would you say that Mr. Jane presented as depressed during our discussion?"

A smile lit her face as she replied. "Why yes, I would. And we did offer him more time to think about it, and he agreed."

"Well then that's a horse of a different color. Prep him for surgery and book an OR STAT!" Crandall ran out of the room.

The team sighed collectively in relief.

The extraneous staff left , and only Brenda and her PCT remained to prep Jane for emergency surgery.

Lisbon broke the silence "Thank you Grace. Good thinking."

"Why was he trying to get up?"

Brenda made a face of concern "He said he was checking out AMA. I tried to tell him he was too weak, after being in a coma for nearly two weeks."

It was then Rigsby said with a chill in his voice "Red John."

Lisbon said "Yeah, he would want to get back to the case he's so obsessed"

"No, boss look… look at the balloons."

Her eyes went upward and beheld the three balloons, the one with the smiley face made her mouth desert like. They followed the ribbon that tethered them to the basket filled with yellow flowers that sat on Jane's table, next to the basket was the card. She walked over to it and pulled it closer with her pen.

The words took, her breath away. "Rigsby is right it's that bastard Red John."

"Did you see anyone come in her besides us, or members of the staff? " Cho asked Brenda.

" No after the doctors left him they gave me his care instructions, I charted the changes, went to the pixus machine and got his morphine. When I came back, he was trying to get out of bed, and these things were sitting on the table."

They processed this a moment, when the speaker on the wall said "Brenda, Transport is on its way to take him to OR3"

"Thanks Cathy."

"I am so sorry this is happening to you, and Patrick. Try not to worry we are taking good care of him."

The orderly arrived, and Lisbon insisted that Cho and Rigsby, would come with them as security. Van Pelt and Lisbon stood in the Jane free room; somehow, it shrunk and became duller.

Van Pelt saw Lisbon fighting to stay unemotional. Tears glistened in her jade eyes, she turned to go when out of the blue Grace came over and hugged her tight, soon they were both crying.

"He'll be okay "Van Pelt whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay I promise this weekend more is on the way.

Please be a sweeter you and don't forget to read and review.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

The surgery went well. Dr. Crandall was very pleased with it. When they opened Patrick's skull, and peeled back the Dura, Pete was pleasantly surprised to see the tumor while bigger, hadn't entrenched itself. There were some very thin, thread like fingers reaching down into the brain; he decided to approach the tumor starting with the fingers. It was a painstaking process, each strand of tumor had to isolated, and carefully removed, it was three hours before he finished removing what he could of them. Then he began the business of removing the tumor, he made clean margins, anxious not to leave any of it behind, and lifted it slowly from the brain. Then he inspected the field, and check for bleeding. Beautiful, and surprisingly easy. He should have known it was too good to be true. Before he could close, Patrick's blood pressure began to drop dangerously.

"What the ?... What's happening?"

"Is he bleeding?. The anastethologist asked.

"No, at least not in his brain, give him some dopamine and turn up the rate on his IV."

Alarms started screeching "Tachycardia, respiratory distress…What the hell?"

"Lift the drape," he told the scrub nurse. Underneath the surgical drape, Jane's torso was covered in a rash.

"Anaphylaxis! What's causing it?"

"Oh My God is it the latex?"

"I don't know but push an amp of epi!"

The alarms began screeching as once again Patrick Jane's heart went into v-fib. Dr. Crandall was busily trying to stabilize him without causing injury to his now exposed brain. He was hesitant to use the paddles because of the halo screwed into his patient's skull but it was becoming clear that he had no choice but to shock Jane's heart back into rhythm. Fortunately, it only took two jolts to get a sinus rhythm back, and there was no burning around the halo. The epi and diphenhydramine seemed to be holding the allergic reaction at bay so they were able to close up without further incident.

Pete Crandall was pissed. How does a patient spend over two weeks in the hospital and no one bothers to find out he has a latex allergy? As he left the OR the nurses and the rest of the team stay out of his way, they are well aware of his bad temper and didn't want to be in the line of fire. But as ther neurosurgeon stalked out of the scrub room he went immediately to the charge nurse on Jane's floor and began grilling her about the allergy.

"Carla! Can you explain to me how it is that you had Mr. Jane here on the floor for over two weeks and you didn't determine he was allergic to latex?"

The feisty Latina looked at him as if he was insane. "What do you mean Dr. Crandall? It was noted in his chart. In fact, I was here when they brought him and did his patient history. Mr. Jane told us right away about his allergy. He said that he'd experienced an anaphylactic reaction previously and was very clear about it."

"Well then where is the warning label on his chart?"

She looked at him bewildered. "I have no idea…but it was also noted elsewhere throughout the chart, so that no one could make mistake."

"Well it's not there now…" and he threw the chart up on the counter in disgust.

"I assure you doctor I will not rest until I get to the bottom of this."

He saw her determined and concerned face and knew she would do just that. "Thank you Carla. I know you will."

There was a brief pause and he asked her with a tired sigh. "Can you tell me if Mr. Jane's colleagues are nearby?"

She smiled and said, "Yes they are waiting in his room."

"Thanks." He walked off still trying to understand what had happened, he was starting to wonder after speaking to Carla, if someone had deliberately tampered with the chart. The thought made him queasy. Nevertheless, he would have to tell the CBI folks exactly what happened, and voice his thoughts on the matter. After all that was what they did for a living.

Lisbon was pacing in a circuit around Jane's hospital room. Cho was reading something. Van Pelt and Rigsby had left to bring everyone coffee. As much as her pacing must have been driving Cho insane, he as always, remained stoic. That is how Dr. Crandall found them, he nearly ran into Lisbon as she was turning the corner on her thirtieth lap of the room.

Lisbon saw that by the look on Crandall's face something was wrong. Her heart sank fearing the worst.

"Is he alright?" she asked impatiently.

"Yes he's alright the surgery went beautifully."

She beamed a smile at him but it had no effect on the obviously worried doctor. Lisbon's smile fell into a grim tight-lipped line.

"What's wrong?" her voice taking on authority.

'This isn't going to be easy' Pete thought. "Yes well it seems Patrick has a rather severe latex allergy, and he began going into anaphylactic shock while he was still in surgery.

"You can't be serious! I told the flight nurse, the ER and every single person I could that he was allergic to latex. How could this have happened?"

"I honestly don't know agent. But I promise you, I will find out."

Just then, Carla came in with Jane's chart. "Dr Crandall may I speak to you?"

He nodded and started to follow her out into the hall when Lisbon stopped him. "What's going on? You're not going to leave us in the dark about anything doc, so she might as well tell you in front of us."

"Okay. Carla please come back in here. Anything you have to say you can say in front of the agents."

"Well, if you're sure… I have gone over this chart with a fine tooth comb I was having a hard time at first figuring out what could have happened, because this is about the neatest , most well maintained chart I have ever seen. So I began searching for the nurses reports to see who had done this charting…"

"So ?"

"So sir this chart was prepared by a Juana Rojas… We don't have a nurse by that name in this hospital."

Cho stood up when he heard the name anticipating his boss's negative reaction, but Lisbon just stood there calmly, and said "Thank you, nurse we'll want to get statements from your staff later so you may want to prepare a schedule for us to interview them."

At that moment, Rigsby and Van Pelt came in with coffee and pastries, right away, they could tell something was up, and looked quizzically at Cho and Lisbon. Cho just turned his head toward them and said "Red John."


	7. Chapter 7

Patrick Jane was swimming in a sea of what felt a lot like vanilla pudding. His eyes felt filmy, his arms and legs cold and clammy, resistant to movement, as if impeded by a viscous substance… pudding. Somewhere in the back of his aching head, he knew that sounded ridiculous, but the sensation was distracting, and he was finding it hard to concentrate because some annoying person kept calling his name.

"Patrick…"Shake shake, shake.

"Patrick, come on we need you to wake up…" Poke, poke, poke.

"Jane! Quit screwing around and wake up!" Punch in the arm…

"Owww." It was barely a whisper, but to Lisbon, it was a shout of triumph.

"See I knew you were faking." She tried hard but the relief she felt was seeping from her voice.

"Patrick, I need you to open your eyes." A man's voice…

"Jane, open your eyes…" her voice had that hint of warning he knew better than to ignore.

He moaned… The fluorescent lights already piercing his brain through his eyelids. "Light…" he croaked in pain.

"Okay Patrick we'll turn them down"the man said.

The blinding light came down a notch or two to merely excruciating, and Jane sighed in anticipation of the agony he was already feeling, intensifying twenty fold.

"Patrick, I know you're in pain but the sooner we get this neuro check done, the sooner I can let you have another dose of morphine" the man again.

Jane decided he loved the man…he had morphine.

With that thought, the thick soup his brain had been floating in disappeared.

'Morphine… no. I will not go back there.'

His eyes pulled open quicker than he intended, the gumminess made tearing the lids apart unpleasant. He hissed in pain at the bombardment the light made on his brain, his eyes watering, he closed them again instantly.

"No…no morphine" his shaking tone emphatic.

"Jane don't be stupid you just had you're skull opened, you need pain relief." Lisbon said almost kindly, she had a sneaking suspicion as to the reasons why Jane kept denying himself morphine, and bet it had little to do with Red John.

"Lisbon… leave. I need to talk with the doctor." His eyes remained closed. He heard her walk away without a word. He could tell there was someone else in the room.

"Who else?"

"Patrick, it is Dr. Hanh and Dr. Crandall we are here to do your assessment, to talk about what happened with your surgery, and to go over a those options once more" the tiny oncologist said.

"Can you try to open your eyes again?" Crandall again.

Jane once more started to open his now tearing eyes. It was easier this time, less painful. He could see all right but everything was still blurry from sleep.

"Good, Patrick I am afraid we had to remove the tumor after you fell and hit your head and began hemorrhaging at the site. I know that wasn't what you said you wanted but it was an emergency and agent Lisbon spoke as your proxy." The neurosurgeon prepared for his patient's ire.

He seethed in silence for a moment. "What makes you think agent Lisbon is my proxy? She is my colleague and that's all… Never mind, just tell me when I can get out of here."

Dr. Hanh spoke to him gently, almost soothingly.

"Patrick, you cannot leave for several days, and agent Lisbon spoke for you because you have no family and you were unconscious. I would like you to consider at least the radiation while you are still here. The infiltration of the tumor was not extensive, and I feel confident you would have a good result. Though I would prefer you take the fourth option we discussed. Meanwhile, agent Lisbon is right you are in pain and it will increase exponentially as your anesthetic wears off, you need something to help manage it."

There was a churning debate going on inside Jane as an old friend/ enemy threatened to rear its ugly head. He could feel the pain growing like some out of control tropical plant… brain kudzu…he smiled at that absurdity. He thought he could handle the damn headache that led to all of this and it nearly killed him. He knew once he felt that sweet oblivion, once he floated on the river of opiates he would eventually come crashing down the waterfall into the jagged rocks hidden in the cataract below…it would end in his destruction just assuredly as the cancer, only more shamefully, and sodden in degradation. He would choose the drier more clear route of the pain he could see and feel, for the one hidden in the cloud of narcotics.

"Patrick, are you an addict?" Dr. Crandall asked bluntly shattering the silence and the oppressive feel of unasked questions.

"Well, doctor you are quite astute. Let's just say there was a time in my life wherein I was quite chummy with morphine. We had a bad breakup; the relationship was fraught with drama and dependency. I just can't go back to her. She is a lying bitch of a mistress, she'll take everything you have destroying you a little at a time and make you believe she loves you, only for you to end up dead or so close to it, you beg for her to finish you off."

Crandall nodded somewhat stunned by the impassioned description, and the kindhearted Hanh placed her sweet hand on Jane's and looked at him with concern and sympathy.

"Patrick, I understand your reluctance to go down that road again, and I certainly acknowledge the reality of your addiction, but we find ourselves in the difficult position of you being in untenable pain. I cannot allow you to suffer in that way. However there are alternative medications that will at the least help take the edge off, would you be willing to try them?" Hanh's brown eyes implored him.

Crandall stood silently mulling over Jane's words, and was clearly shaken by them. He had never been able to, so eloquently, describe his own torturous experience with addiction. Jane's stark revelation was triggering unwanted feelings and intrusive memories. He found himself beginning to sweat. It was then he felt Jane's keen gaze upon him, their eyes met and he could see that Jane knew just what he was feeling, they shared a nod and Crandall's anxiety eased. He was able to continue the conversation.

"Patrick, I need to talk to you about your operation and what your recovery entails. We were able to remove the majority of the tumor; there was minimal encroachment of the brain tissue. Nevertheless, I was unable to remove every cell, even as clean as the margins were. Given the aggressiveness of this cancer, it would be foolish not to take the course of treatment Dr. Hanh recommends. As for the recovery from the procedure itself, barring the chance of infection, it should be routine. Though I have yet to complete a full exam, I think there has been little to no cognitive impairment. However, due to your time in a coma I am going to order you some PT until you can walk on your own safely. In all you're looking at least another ten days here."Crandall finished quickly.

"Ten days? I've already been here for weeks! I have things I have to do." He was becoming increasingly agitated and his head was pounding. He could hear the monitors beeping more rapidly.

"Patrick, you must stay calm, your blood pressure needs to remain low to prevent any more bleeding. Do you need a sedative?" Dr. Hanh's feminine features drawn in worry.

Jane found he found no pleasure in causing the lovely Dr. Hanh to frown. He calmed himself down and began telling them what he was willing to do.

"First of all let me thank you for all you have done to help me, I appreciate your hard work and concern. However, let me also be clear in that, I will not stay here any longer than I deem necessary and will not be coerced into any treatment I do not want. Now if that requires the help of an attorney I am quite willing to avail myself of that option. That being said, I would like some clarification on the treatment options and the anticipated prognosis, it seems someone I am keen to deal with, has upped the ante while I've been here, and I must reevaluate my previous decision to forgo all treatment."

Crandall knew exactly whom Jane meant, but Lisbon had threatened his private parts if he told him what had happened in the OR. All Dr. Hanh could do is smile, pleased he wasn't giving up, not caring what the reason.

"Patrick, I am so happy you are accepting treatment. As excellent the outcome of your surgery is, I still favor blasting this thing with every gun in our arsenal." Dr. Hanh looked like a fierce kitten when she spoke in battle metaphors, it made Jane smile that genuine grin that melts women's hearts, she was no less affected by his charms, and he saw her blush. 'How about that, even bald I've got it…'

"Okay, docs I am on board as long as this doesn't take too long. What if I do the PT thing first and the chemo radiation thing last… I would like to do that outpatient if I could."

"I think we can say a yes to the PT thing, after you've had a few days to recuperate we'll get you started, also I will get you a consult with pain management, so they can help you find alternatives to opiates or at the very least morphine. As for your chemo and radiation protocols, I will leave you in Dr. Hanh's capable hands and get started on your referrals. I'll be back in a few minutes to finish that neuro check" He shook Jane's hand warmly and left.

They were alone in a companionable quiet and she pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down.

"This doesn't bode well" he teased with an arched brow. She placed her delicate hand on his arm tenderly.

"Patrick, this regimen is very rigorous. It will make you at the very least weak and miserable, at the worst it will make you very, very ill."

He winced at the second very.

"That's why I'd like you to stay here during treatment so I can keep you as well as possible. As for the PT, I am concerned about any delay in beginning, due to the ferocity of this type of cancer. There is always a chance of recurrence and metastases. So I am asking you, to please let me make you sick, so I can save your life, and potentially wipe out your cancer."

This was what he feared almost more than anything, loss of control. Being in control wasn't just his personality, or choice, but his necessity. It was the thing that kept him able to survive the unmitigated horror that haunted him in his dreams. If he were unable to exact extreme control, his thoughts would return unbidden to his loss, and he would crumble once more into a shattered heap. He cringed as he considered what being weakened by radiation and chemo might do to his resolve. Nevertheless, the larger issue now was killing Red John, and keeping his team safe. He would accept anything to keep more people from being killed in his name.

"I must say Dr. Hanh you make a compelling argument. I assume you and Dr. Crandall can work out the details about the PT. I suppose I am willing to do whatever you want, I just want to hurry up and get this over with." His headache was now building like lava under Kilauea; he was in danger of vomiting all over the sweet faced doctor.

Hanh was satisfied with Jane's answer, but not the way he looked. His heart rate was up, as was his BP. His face incredibly pale, coated with the sickly sheen that only terrible pain could give. She had to do something for him.

"Patrick, why don't I give you something to take the edge off the pain, and perhaps a sedative too."

"Please…but no sedative I have to talk to Lisbon. " He groaned and pointed to the emesis basin on the table. She quickly thrust it under his chin just in time.

"I'm afraid I have to at least give you an anti-emetic, and they have a tenancy to make you sleepy. You can't keep vomiting after brain surgery, its heck on the sutures and your blood pressure."

His eyes remained closed but he nodded his acquiescence. 'Lisbon will have to wait.'


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This is an update, one I found lacking and hard to get out. I have higher hopes for the next one.

Please read and review

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist

###############

"God…this is intolerable…" Jane said after vomiting for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. It was killing his head and the chills were making everything that much worse.

"I feel like someone's pulling my insides out through my mouth."

"Patrick I know this is hard, I will try to raise your anti-emetic dosage, but there are five more sessions to go, I need you to hang in there."

"Dr. Hanh… I hate you…"

She patted his arm and said sweetly "I know you do dear…"

He lay in the now darkened room willing himself to quit vomiting; he shivered from the cold IV and the side effect of the drug on his hypothalamus. This sadistic form of cure complimented his unspoken need for punishment, but even he had his limits. He told Lisbon and everyone else to stay away while he went through chemo, he didn't need an audience for his weakness. His vanity couldn't take being seen as this fragile wretched bald creature. Seeing the fuzz of his hair coming back did nothing to lift his spirits, for he knew the chemo he was on would cause his hair to fall out anyway. Occasionally he caught himself having an attack of chemo brain wherein he was confused and disoriented, another fragility he could not endure Lisbon being witness to.

Five more sessions of this torture, 'God how can I do this.' Then his chemically addled brain remembers Red John's threat. With a sigh, he attempts to fall asleep amidst the beeping, and hall noises, and the pounding on the inside of his skull. Somehow, Jane manages a few hours of fitful sleep and when he wakes, he finds he isn't alone. A nurse… he can't make out her face in the grey light, is there injecting his IV with something.

"There we are Mr. Jane that should make your headache all better."

Soon his head quits feeling like an anvil's being repeatedly dropped on it, and he feels like he is buoyed along on a sea of warmth, and euphoria…it reminds him of something…the memory is just out of reach. He falls back to sleep without recalling what it was.

The next day he is back in the chemo room lying on the bed, watching as the chemo nurse Kelly cheerfully prattles on while hooking him up to the vile poison. 'Four more after this…' he shudders at the thought. Kelly sees the shiver, and gets him a warmed blanket. The blanket is heaven and he's able to fall asleep for a while.

Lisbon, can't believe the haggard shell of a man before her is Patrick Jane. It shakes her to the core to see the bald head hidden under a beanie, the planes of his face sharp and poking out of his waxen, translucent skin. Never a large man, the weight he'd lost and continues to lose, has reduced him to being a frail shadow of himself.

Teresa's throat tightens at the thought of Jane going through all of this only to have it be for nothing. He could suffer all these indignities and die anyway. It isn't lost on her that the only reason he is going through this is Red John…she found herself in the odd position of thanking the son of a bitch for giving Jane an excuse to keep living. Jane told her to stay away and she had for the first few days, but she couldn't anymore. She was going to be by his side whether he liked it or not, his pride be damned.

Lisbon was tired; she hadn't been sleeping well since all this started so in the quiet of the room with the hum of the infusion pump, she drifted off.

Patrtick Jane's stomach decided to wake him up with a flourish of nausea and vomiting, the chemo had him disoriented and he didn't know where he was for a moment. A woman handed him the emesis basin just as the meager contents of his stomach were hurling out of his mouth. He felt a gentle touch on his back soothing him as his body rebelled against him. After the bout passed his eyes cleared from the tears, he realized who the hand belonged too.

"Lisbon… I told you I didn't want you here." He was too weary to convey the level of his ire.

"Yeah well, you know me, not that good a listener." She knew he was angry but was saddened to see how defeated he seemed.

"True… Since you're here do you think you could find me a cup of tea?" He wanted her out of here; he was going to be violently ill again and he couldn't stand the thought of her hearing him beg for it to stop.

"Sure…you want anything else?" Lisbon, was aware of what he was trying to do but decided not to argue with him.

"Yes, could you please have the nurse come in here?"His voice was shaking with effort.

She nodded her head and walked out into the hall. She took a minute to regain her composure before asking one of the nurses to go to Jane.

Jane lay panting in the bed trying to keep his viscera in place. He was close to losing it before he saw Lisbon , now he was barely holding it together. 'Dammit, why couldn't she just do what I asked?'

When Kelly returned to his room, he was asleep. Though she hated to, she began taking his vitals and found his blood pressure disturbingly low. "Mr. Jane?" He wasn't responding. His heart rate was erratic and slightly tachycardic. She hit the call button… "Patient hypotensive, heart rate erratic, call the doc."

When Lisbon returned there was a flurry of activity in Jane's room. She felt fear and panic at the sight, it was too close to what had happened the day they brought him here. She couldn't watch but she couldn't leave, she needed to know what was going on. Just as she was about to leave a young blonde nurse came out, Lisbon cornered her.

"Miss, can you tell me what's going on with Mr. Jane?"

Kelly looked at her with sympathy. "Oh, poor thing's having a side effect issue with his blood pressure but the doc on call has it covered. Don't worry he'll be okay."

Her face must have betrayed her, as she felt herself being led to a nearby chair. "I'm okay…It's okay."

"Shh, now you just sit here for a minute and then you can take Patrick that tea."

Lisbon nodded distracted by the uncomfortable feeling that Jane was going to die.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This is a short one with little going on, and one I'm not crazy about either but I promise to write more soon. I accidentally broke my laptop so that's why the absence.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE MENTALIST

After the heroic measures to bring, Jane's blood pressure up he was finally allowed to go back to his hospital room. He was still "puking his guts out" as he heard Lisbon say to someone on her cell. His headache was still in the "I wish I could chop my head off range" again using another Lisbonism. He really hoped they would send a nurse soon with whatever they gave him yesterday. It was the first time he'd been pain free in weeks. Lisbon finally got off the phone, and brought him a cup with ice chips in it, she took the emesis basin from him and handed him the ice.

"Here…" she said perfunctorily.

"Thanks …" his voice sounded like he had the worst case of laryngitis ever.

Lisbon could see he was hurting; he kept grimacing whenever he tried to look at her.

"Either I need to turn down these lights for your headache or you find me repulsive."

He managed a wan smile and replied, "Well fortunately turning down the lights covers both problems."

Lisbon grinned at that. She missed bantering with him. It was good to see a glimpse of the old Jane. She reached up and pulled the chain on the huge fluorescent light directly above his bed, and walked over to the light switch to turn off the other less obnoxious lights. There were tiny sconces along the baseboards, so that staff could see to work during the night that couldn't be turned off but she heard Patrick sigh with relief.

"Better?"

"Yes now I only have a wrecking ball in my skull…"

Just then a nurse came in and said "Mr. Jane, how would some pain medication sound?"

"It sounds like heaven…please hurry I'm going to start vomiting again…"

"You poor thing… I know it's rough but we're going to help you get through this "The cute strawberry blonde patted his arm and gave him a flirty smile, and she began to push the medication into his IV.

Lisbon watched as the pain faded slowly away and Jane looked more like himself.

Jane could feel the pain ebb away and the warm floatyness takes over. It was bliss. Right as he was drifting off he had that same thought that he should remember something…he was out.

Lisbon sat watching him for a long time; she was teetering on the edge of developing some feelings that would make things difficult to say the least. Soon she was asleep too.

Four hours later the cute nurse was back checking vitals and administering more of the pain medication. Jane barely stirred, but he was having incredibly vivid dreams full of color and strangeness. Lisbon woke when the nurse came in and left to get something from the vending machines, she walked around the hospital absorbing the quiet energy around her. Her mind wandered in the peaceful atmosphere, she began thinking she needed to get back to work, her boss wasn't going to keep letting her call in sick. Besides, she was going crazy watching Jane waste away, in pain and misery. He had been right, she shouldn't have come, she couldn't handle it.

Though her heart ached for her friends suffering and him having to do it all alone, she was going to tell Jane goodbye in the morning, and head back to CBI. Hopefully to a case that would distract them all. Her mind settled on a course of action she returned to Jane's room. She grabbed the blanket the nurse brought her, curled up in the recliner and slept.

It was almost time for shift change, the hustle and bustle of the morning broke through to the sleeping friends and they were soon awake. Lisbon yawned and stretched hoping to work the kinks out from sleeping in the chair. Jane took a bit longer to wake fully; he was still a bit out of it.

The tech came in with Jane's breakfast and he began groaning. "Get it out of here…the smell…"

"Jane you have to eat you're practically a skeleton.

The night nurse came back for one last set of vitals and another round of pain meds, with an anti-emetic chaser.

"Here you go Mr. Jane this should make your day a bit better. I see you're not eating…you really need to try okay."She beamed a smile worthy of Hollywood at him; he gave her a weak one back. "All right Mr. Jane I'll see you tonight, I have to go do my report now, but I hope you have a good day."

"Patrick… please, call me Patrick." This time his smile had a hint of the old charm in it. Lisbon rolled her eyes.

"Well you can call me Joanie!" She gave him one more megawatt smile and a gentle pat on his arm, and left to do her report.

Lisbon was irritated, she wasn't exactly sure why, but that nurse… That much cuteness in one person can't be natural. 'She sure played Jane like a fiddle' She was still ruminating when Jane spoke.

"Lisbon, thanks for coming, really. But I think I have it from here, and you need to get back to work before the place falls apart."

Lisbon sighed inwardly, totally relieved that she didn't have to say "I'm leaving" to him. She protested a bit, but only to keep Jane from guessing the truth. Just as she was finding the words she needed to say goodbye, her cell phone rang.

"Lisbon."

"Agent Lisbon it's me Rigsby, something's come up we need to get to Oroville ASAP. I don't have all the details but one of the locals believes it's … Red John."

Her face paled, and she grit her teeth to regain her composure. "Okay, I'll get there as soon as possible, but it's going take me awhile."

Patrick could hear even through his drug-induced haze that something important was going on.

"Listhbon…"his tongue felt very thick. "It'sh Red John isnth it?"

If Lisbon wasn't so distracted she would have noticed Jane's slurred speech and made some comment about him being a lightweight. Instead she picked a lie out of the air and said "No Jane, it's not Red John. It 's a double homicide in Oroville. Some kind of dignitaries, from what I hear."

"S'okay then… call me when…" he was back asleep in seconds.

Just as she was about to leave Jane's doctors came in for rounds.

"Hello agent Lisbon, it's nice to see you visiting. Patrick could use the distraction."

"It's nice to see you too Dr. Hanh, and you too Dr. Crandall. How's he doing?"

"We had a bit of a problem yesterday with his blood pressure, and of course the effects of the chemo have been hard on him, but he's almost through ,we'll do the radiation and hopefully he can get out of here a week or so after."

"Before you wake him, I have a concern."

"What would that be agent?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you're the one to talk about this Dr. Crandall, I have no idea what the protocol for doctors are, but I am really worried about how much weight he's lost, he has no appetite at all. I'm sure I am just being silly but I had to ask."

Dr. Hanh looked at Patrick's chart, when last weighed he was a slight 160, underweight for a man of his stature. "Tell you what agent I will weigh him right now." She reached down to the controls at the foot of the bed and selected the weigh patient icon.

"The bed is going to weigh him?"

Pete smiled at her "Cool isn't it?"

Lisbon shook her head and watched in fascination as the bed weighed Jane, and waited anxiously to see the number.

"Dr. Crandall, could you come and look at this please."

Crandall walked over to Hanh, and looked at the number displayed. "Yeah, that is …interesting."

'Something is up, and those damn doctors won't tell me'

"Note it in his chart, and let's wake him up."

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey." Teresa shook him.

"Quit Lishbon."

"Good Patrick I'm glad you're awake we need to discuss something with you," said the ever perky Dr. Hanh.

Jane tried to shake off the fogginess in his brain, and turned to see the doctors. "Yes…"

"We are concerned about the amount of weight you are losing. We need to get some calories in you."

"I just can't…even the smell makes me sick."

"I know and that isn't uncommon with chemotherapy. But we have a way to get around it…" Crandall replied.

"How?"

"Well we would give nourishment parenterally."

"As in a feeding tube?" he asked warily.

"Not exactly… we won't be using an NG tube. We want to use a PICC line to give you the calories and nutrition you need. A PICC line is very similar to your IV, the nutrient formula would run into the line, so you wouldn't have to worry about nausea, and we could get your weight up or at the very least keep you from losing more. How does that sound?"

Jane closed his eyes, as the weight of his mortality crashed into him…

He'd spent the last six hellish years in a wasteland of rage and despair, urged on by his obsession and vengeance. Somewhere between utter devastation and the active pursuit of his nemesis, his humanity began to return. Against his desire to remain an island, he began building bridges back to the world of the people, at first only as a function of proximity and facility Despite his best attempts, the people at the CBI became important to him, and he found himself in the land of the living once more.

Though he made connections to life again, he never let go of the option of his own death, part of his relentlessness in his quest for retribution was his complete disregard for his own well-being, and that is why his first response to treatment was "no". However, Red John knew Jane better than he knew himself; he knew that Patrick would never intentionally, do anything, to cause his CBI friends harm.

There was something else going on inside him now, it was the sense that he didn't want to die. The inherent fear associated with his own death had been a stranger to him for so long, that it hit him with unexpected force. Hearing that he was sick enough that he needed to be fed through his veins, brought the reality home.

"Patrick? Are you all right?" Dr Hanh's caring voice broke through.

He opened his eyes a different man than just a few moments ago. With a subdued tone, he answered her "Apparently not…"

"This isn't a bad thing Patrick. It just makes sense to help you get through the chemo. I will put your PICC line in myself." Crandall said.

"Okay, let's do it." Just the effort from feeling all those emotions had worn him out, and he hadn't even gone to chemo yet.

Dr. Hanh beamed at him like a proud mother and Crandall said, "Good we'll do it in the morning."

As the doctors were leaving the orderly came to get him for chemo, "Great, I was beginning to miss throwing up."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Here's an update hope it's okay I am currently enjoying a bout of the flu myself so it may be a bit incomprehensible.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist

Read and Review… It is better than chicken soup.

The sound of muffled hissing and the rhythmic stream of air in his throat made it hard to stay asleep. Jane had been in this damn hospital for over a month, they removed his tumor and then blasted him with chemo, which left him with a severely compromised immune system. He was on prophylactic antivirals and antibiotics, and they gave him these wonderful shots of neulasta to raise his white count that made his bones ache till he felt like crying. Despite all countermeasures, Patrick managed to catch a virulent form of pneumonia commonly found in hospitals. He was back on the ventilator, and they were pouring vancomycin into him like it was normal saline. He was weak from chemo, weak from surgery and now he was fighting for his life from a stupid thing like pneumonia. God knows how he would survive the radiation portion of his treatment, if he were fortunate enough to make it until then.

Lisbon sat staring in horror at the shell of Patrick Jane lying in the bed before her. If she didn't know for sure it was him, she would never have believed it was Jane. It had been four days since she last saw him, and in that time he managed to deteriorate to needing full life support. That was Jane for you; he never did anything half way.

Cho leaned against the wall beside the doorway his arms crossed and one foot resting on the wall. He looked bored, but then again that was how he always looked. Grace had made herself a cup of tea in honor of Jane, and sat sipping it in one of the other chairs. Rigsby was pacing back in forth unnerved by what he saw in the bed. No one said it, but they all felt Jane slipping away, that's what brought them here on the weekend, to see him, and perhaps to say good bye.

Pete Crandall was a neurosurgeon and didn't usually handle a patients case after he'd gotten them through post-op, but Jane was special, not just because the CBI requested he remain as Jane's primary, but because Patrick reminded him so much of himself. Their cool exteriors hid torrents of emotion, that surgery helped him to hide, and being a mentalist helped Patrick conceal from the world. It took one to know one, and Pete knew exactly what he saw in Patrick. He was mulling over the grim possibility that Jane may die of a stupid hospital borne infection as he walked into his office. A bouquet of yellow flowers sat on his desk… 'Narcissus' he mused. Beside the woven basket that held the arrangement was an envelope addressed to him. Thinking nothing of it, he opened the envelope and began reading the letter inside… he felt the blood drain from his face as he stumbled trying to sit down.

_Dear Dr .Crandall,_

_You have done an admirable job of ridding my dear friend Patrick of his tumor, and I assure you I greatly appreciate your efforts. However, if Patrick dies in your hospital I will hold you personally responsible, and trust me when I say you will not enjoy our conversation on the matter, and neither will your wife and daughter. For all of your sakes I hope you are able to cure him of his pneumonia. _

_By the way, you have a lovely home; I like what you did around the pool area. Your lovely wife and I enjoyed a glass of tea beside the koi pond, beautiful, simply beautiful._

_Your Friend,_

_Red John_

Pete's hands were shaking, as he dialed his home number.

"Hello…"

'Oh thank God' his heart was pounding in his chest. "Meredith? How are you and Kylie?"

Meredith's brows furrowed with concern and curiosity; her husband was a surgeon, and she rarely heard from him during the day, on top of that his voice sounded strangely choked.

"We're fine Pete…what's wrong?"

"Ohhh uhhh nothing really just wanted to check in."

She knew he was lying but also knew she would get nothing else from him over the phone.

"Okay great… honey will you be home for dinner?"

Pete's mind began racing… 'Kylie, she needs to pick Kylie up.'

"Hey Mere, I was wondering why don't you pick Kylie up and meet me here, and we can get some dinner together."

Okay now she knew something was wrong…really wrong, but she was no fool if Pete Crandall was afraid she could trust it was something serious.

"Sounds good, we'll see you in a couple of hours."

He heard the change in her voice, she knew he was scared and she would do whatever he asked. Thank God he married such a smart and intuitive woman. "Great look forward to it… Bye"

"Goodbye Pete, see you later… I love you."

He felt his throat close with fear and unshed tears he could barely squeak out a heartfelt "I love you too…and Kylie…tell her I love her too."

She nodded her head stunned by the emotion leeching through the phone from her normally implacable husband…

"Mere?"

"Oh yes sweetheart… I will tell her, see you soon," and she hung up the phone, before she completely lost it. Whatever was going on was scary as hell, and her husband was afraid for her and their daughter. She grabbed her purse and keys set the alarm code and rushed to pick her daughter up from school early… she needed to hold her and make sure she was safe.

Pete sat nearly gasping for air in an effort to calm down… his mind was spinning, he could not decide whether to tell CBI or not. Unfortunately, he would not get the chance to choose because at that moment agent Lisbon walked into his office.

Lisbon strode quickly to Crandall's office, she was angry, and she wanted answers. In her mind, Jane should not have been exposed to the rest of the hospital if he was at such risk for infection. Sure, she was no doctor but she did have a basic understanding of quarantine procedures…or in this case the concept of precautions for immunocompromised patients. When Jane became ill she educated herself on what would happen to him, and knew that something wasn't right. She walked into Crandall's office fuming and full of righteous indignation, but when she saw the look on his face, the letter in his hand and the ominous bouquet of yellow upon his desk…her anger flew away on wings of adrenalin and fear.

"Dr. Crandall? Are you all right?"

He didn't say a word but got up from his desk, walked over to her, and handed her the letter, nearly collapsing before returning to his chair.

"Dammit!!!! How does this keep happening?" She was furious, so angry that spots were flashing across her vision, a good indication her blood pressure had shot way up.

Crandall flinched at her tirade, and she caught his distress before continuing her rant. "I'm sorry doctor, I know this must be very scary for you. But we've been chasing this bastard for years now and he's always just out of our reach…it is infuriating."

Crandall simply nodded…

"Can you cure him… I mean his pneumonia?"

He sighed and said "If he hadn't just had brain surgery, and several rounds of chemo I would say there would be no problem getting him over this pneumonia. But he has had all of these insults to his body wearing its defenses down, making curing any infection extremely challenging. This strain of pneumonia is very drug resistant, so things are a bit dicey. Hopefully we caught it in time to knock it out before it gets a good foothold in his lungs."

"You know doctor, he means it…he will kill them if you fail."

Crandall's throat constricted he was unable to speak but the look of terror on his face conveyed to Lisbon he understood just how desperate things were.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: My dear precious readers I have finally escaped from the evil clutches of "real life" and to celebrate here is a little chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist

Pete Crandall was sitting beside Patrick Jane's hospital bed, praying that the man would get better. Someone walked into the room, he turned to see who it was.

"Hello Amy."

"Hi Pete, how's he doing?"

"Well I think we may have turned a corner…fingers crossed."

Amy Hanh looked at her favorite patient. As an oncologist, she should know better, but she was a woman too, and Jane's mix of charm and tragedy was too heady a brew to pass up.

"I'm not sure he can handle the radiation after this."

"Yeah I was thinking the same thing." Pete was worried though that Patrick's cancer would return without the radiotherapy, and what would Red John do to him for _that_ failure?

Patrick was floating along on a cloud… he woke briefly to find himself back on the ventilator and the nurse gave him a shot to calm him down. He was calm all right, he felt so good he didn't care that he was back in ICU, back on respiratory support. He could hear the muffled sounds of people talking nearby. Nevertheless, whatever that cute nurse gave him, kept the world blissfully just out of reach.

Lisbon waited outside Dr. Crandall's office. He'd called her and asked to see her in private concerning Jane's case. She tried to divert her restless mind by reading some, ancient, woman's magazine. No such luck, her brain wouldn't let go of the details of Jane's illness. She began pacing to distract herself. Thankfully it wasn't long before Crandall came walking in.

"Agent Lisbon, thank you for coming."

"It's not a problem Dr. Crandall. You said something about wanting to discuss Jane's case?"

"Yes, I did. However, before we get into that do you mind walking with me to get some coffee? We can talk on the way."

He smiled but his eyes revealed his nervousness. It was becoming obvious he wanted to talk to her somewhere other than his office, as if he didn't feel it safe. Lisbon was growing more curious by the second. "Sure, Doctor no problem. I could use some coffee too."

"Great then, shall we?"

He held the door open and he rushed her out of his office. There was no longer any doubt that Dr. Crandall was in a hurry to get out of there. Lisbon walked with him her mind winnowing through all the possibilities of what the doctor might want to talk about so privately. They rounded the corner to the elevator bay in a slightly tense silence, but when they were finally alone in the car Dr. Crandall said, "Agent Lisbon I have to be sure we can't be overheard."

"Why? What's going on?" Lisbon's voice showed the irritation she was feeling.

The doors were about to open on the mezzanine where the coffee and gift shops were located when Crandall held down the door close button and said two words. Two words that told the agent all she needed to know, "Red John."

Lisbon stared at him in concern "What do you mean by that?"

The doors opened and they kept walking towards the coffee kiosk. "What do you say we get our coffee and sit out on the patio and talk about Patrick?"

She nodded her usual laconic demeanor back in place. They bought their coffees and headed to the patio, Lisbon's stomach churning. As if it weren't bad enough Jane was dying, but now Red John was messing with civilians too. They sat down at a nearby table and sat sipping their coffee in silence, it took a few moments but Crandall started talking.

"Agent that _bastard_ came to my _house , talked to my wife!"_ His voice was shaking with fury.

Lisbon's face went white and her eyes widened with shock "He came to your _house? Red John came to your house. Are you serious? I mean are you sure?" _

He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired "Agent he came to my home and drank iced tea with my wife and then he left me a note just to let me know that if I didn't cure Mr. Jane's pneumonia he would kill _my_ wife and daughter."

Lisbon's mind was racing. Part of her was still in shock but her police training was kicking in and she began to organize her thoughts. "Doctor Crandall you said he left you a note, do you still have it?"

"Yeah I still have it."

"Good. There are some things we need to take care of as soon as possible, first we need to place your family in protective custody, then I need to have your wife meet with a police sketch artist, and you have to keep Jane alive. Because, I promise you, if Red John says he will kill your family … he will." Her words hung ominously between them, not even the beautiful sunny day could warm the chill in them, and for a moment neither spoke, there was no need trying to fill the void left from such revealations.

"Okay Doctor we need to get the ball rolling on this, and I want to go see Jane, so why don't I stop by your office later and we can discuss the details."

They rose from their seats coffee all but forgotten, each with their own turmoil spinning in their heads. In a silence that bespoke the undercurrent of terror they were feeling, they walked back into the hospital wearing grim, false smiles.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Sorry this has been so long in coming but after my continuity error I was having trouble getting going again.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist

Read Review Whatever

* * *

Sometime during the night the on call doctor made the decision to take Patrick Jane off the ventilator. He had turned the corner, no fever, his lungs sounded good, and he was lucid. Though he still complained of headaches, overall he was much better.

The cute nurse was back, she took his vitals with a gentle hand and a kind smile and asked him in a soft voice if he had any pain. Did he? He wasn't sure it was quite pain, his throat was killing him, sure but did that warrant painkillers. And as far as his head the pain was a dull ache that stayed in the background until he moved around a lot or the lights were too bright. No, he probably could manage the pain but he didn't want to, he wanted to sleep with no tubes crammed down his throat.

"Yes."

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you have ever felt what number is your pain."

It was probably a three, maybe a four but he lied and said "Seven."

She gave him a concerned look, her eyes full of compassion. "I'm sorry Mr. Jane let me get your pain medication."

With an exaggerated sigh he said "Thank you."

She came back in a few minutes with a syringe and slowly pushed the drugs into his IV.

Just as he began to melt into the pleasant fog of the medicine, he had a thought. _Something is wrong. I just can't remember what it is_._ I'm sure it's fine. _ Soon he was back in the arms of Morpheus.

Lisbon sat outside the interview room watching the sketch artist interview Mrs. Crandall. Cho, Van Pelt, and Rigsby hovered around her, filling the room with a wall of tension. This could be it, the moment when they would have Red John's face revealed to them.

_Of course that son of a bitch has some kind of trick up his sleeve, but we have to try. I wish Jane were here to interview Mrs. Crandall, he could hypnotize her maybe help reveal more details._

"What's taking so long?" Rigsby whispered.

The police officer taking the description placed the info into his laptop for the EFIT. In a few moments they would have a description of their killer, one step closer to putting the bastard away.

Pete Crandall paced like an agitated tiger through the offices of the CBI waiting for his wife to finish with the sketch artist. _I am a surgeon dammit not a cop. I shouldn't even be in this situation._ Nonetheless he was here and he had to hold it together for his family. They didn't deserve this wasn't what they signed up for. He had Jane being his patient as a reason for his involvement, they were just innocents being used as pawns in a sadistic bastards chess game. The more that he thought about things the more enervated he felt. If something didn't happen soon he would lose it, right here in front of an office full of cops.

In what seemed like hours the police artist and Mrs. Crandall came out of the interview room. Her husband closed the gap between the desks and was by her side instantly. She smiled at him and patted his arm in an effort to comfort him, she knew he was blaming himself for this ordeal.

"Thank you Mrs. Crandall you have no idea how helpful this may be."

"It is my pleasure and my duty agent Lisbon. I couldn't in good conscience have walked away."

"Well, still, we appreciate it."

The lovely woman nodded her head and looked up to her husband and said," Pete can we leave now?"

Pete looked at Lisbon the question in his eyes. "Can we?"

"Sure just let me get your security detail to take you to the safe house." Lisbon walked away to find the security coordinator.

Pete held his wife closely his grip firm and desperate. He'd seen what was left of Patrick Jane in the aftermath of Red John, a man who preferred to suffer in pain and agony, and who preferred death to the horrors of life without his wife and daughter. The doctor knew he couldn't survive such a loss, he assumed Jane had kept going fueled only by his thirst for vengeance. Of course, Jane may not even have that anymore. Pete's chest tightened in compassion for his patient.

Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby were walking around trying to keep their growing desire to look at the EFIT without waiting for Lisbon in check. Rigsby was eating a bag of Cheetos, Cho held his current book in his hands but he was too restive to read it, and Van Pelt kept tapping her fingers on her PC looking for a distraction though she was too antsy to sit down.

"I wish she'd hurry." Rigsby whined.

"She'll be here soon." Van Pelt soothed.

Cho just set his book down and crossed his arms, which usually meant he was irritated.

Lisbon and Crandall walked his wife and daughter down to the waiting security vehicle. Lisbon gave the team of four detailed instructions, standing back when Crandall leaned in to say goodbye to his family.

"I'll see you guys later okay?" his voice thick with emotion.

"Bye Daddy." His daughter acted like this was all very exciting and beamed a smile at him that made his heart ache.

"Bye sweetheart, be good for your Mommy, Okay."

"Okay Daddy."

Pete looked at his wife his eyes brimming with tears and said quietly "I love you. I love both so much."

Sarah couldn't respond her throat was closed from the sobs she was fighting to keep in. Her look said it all , she placed her hand on his face and kissed him.

"We love you too Daddy, don't be sad we are going on a'venture."

He reached up and mussed her hair smiling and said "Yes, yes, you are."

Lisbon cleared her throat to let them know they had to get going.

"Okay my girls, agent Lisbon says it's time to go. So…Bye."

Lisbon reached around him and shut the door and knocked on the door. The agent driving looked at her and shook his head in understanding and the van began heading out of the parking lot.

The two stood quietly as the van pulled out of sight.

Pete broke the silence "Agent, you have to get this animal."

She whispered "I know."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Here's a short update but I promised I would update tonight, so here it is.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist

Thanks for reading, and I hope to hear from you.

* * *

Jane felt like he was in a pool of warm honey. The sun was dancing around casting rainbows in the mists of morning. He felt wonderful; he never wanted to stop feeling wonderful. The sky was empty and blue as a cornflower, he was high above the ground, and his daughter sat next to him her smile piercing his heart. This dream place was so easy, so fair and beautiful he couldn't stand the thought of leaving.

"Daddy? Why are you sad?"

Jane choked back a sob. "Because, I miss you."

"And Mommy. You miss Mommy too."

He gasped his breath shuddering in his attempt to keep from wailing in despair. "Yes sweet heart, I miss you _and_ Mommy."

"Don't be sad anymore Daddy. We are in a happy place. See?"

He looked around and realized they were sitting in the top seat of a Ferris wheel. He could see a carnival below him, full of hustling carneys and marks ripe for the picking. His stomach sank; he knew this was no _happy place_. This was a place full of lies and deceit, rife with corruption and misery. He knew because it had been his home for his entire childhood. He could feel his pulse begin bounding in his veins, his breathing rapid and his mouth dry.

"This is not happy place love. This is a bad place." He whispered.

She giggled, "Daddy you're so silly, it is so a good place. Look, it's pretty and fun, and there are many treats like this yummy cotton candy."

"I know it is pretty but, there are bad people here honey."

She reached out and patted his face. "Oh Daddy you make me so sad. Please share my cotton candy with me and let's have fun before the storm comes."

He looked at her innocent face framed by her flaxen curls; her cheeks forever round with the blush of youth, her deep blue eyes looking at him earnestly as she held out the fluffyconfection to him.

"I would love to share your cotton candy sweetie."

Her little hand passed the paper cone bedecked with the pink cloud of instant tooth decay, her face was expectant as she watched him take a bite.

Something was wrong, this wasn't cotton candy. His mouth was full of thousands of tiny injuries, he began to choke on the blood and the microscopic needles that stuck in his throat. This wasn't cotton candy, it was fiberglass.

"See Daddy I told you we would have fun!"

His precious little girl laughed and clapped her hands as his mouth dripped with blood and he was filled with pain. He looked at her, imploring her to make it stop but instead of her angelic face, he saw empty, bloody, eye sockets and her sweet mouth contorted with a hideous laugh of sheer evil.

* * *

Pete sat beside Patrick's bed again, he didn't have anywhere else to go, and he found himself drawn to this man. Jane was a mystery, a puzzle, and Pete never could leave a puzzle unsolved.

What tortured this man so? Why had he jumped at the chance to die? What did it have to do with that bastard Red John?

Pete now had a good idea what the connection was between the serial killer and his patient since that the evil son of a bitch threatened his own family. Still, he wanted to understand Jane better, as if that would give him a sense of control and safety in this freak show situation. After all, wasn't Patrick the favorite toy of Red John? Surely, the CBI consultant had some special insight into the sicko.

He was about to get his answer.

* * *

Patrick shot awake his heart pounding, his lungs gasping for air. Sweat beading all over his body, he was shaking uncontrollably as if he were freezing.

"NO! Oh God please stop, please make it stop."

Pete was already by Jane's bed as the monitor's had begun wailing before Patrick fully awakened.

"Patrick, shhh, it's okay."

The trembling, terrified, man looked at his doctor without recognition.

"Help me," he begged as his hands twisted the collar of Pete's lab coat.

"I will. I'll help you Patrick. Shhh, hang on and I'll give you some medicine that will help."

"No, please don't make me go to sleep."

The man was desperate, whatever he saw in his dreams was horrific.

"Patrick you need to calm down, your heart and respiration rate are much too high, and your blood pressure is in the dangerous range. Please let me give you something to take the edge off, I won't make you sleep, I promise."

The shell of a man before him bore little resemblance to the man who came here over a month ago. Even when he was dying that day, he looked more alive than this pitiable creature. The doctor almost regretted making him live. It was obvious this poor man was tormented by something so disturbing, that it haunted him, and made his dreams a hell of unimaginable evil.

"Please, make it stop." Patrick whispered.

"I will Patrick, just hang in there I'll be right back—" he stopped as a shaking hand grabbed his sleeve.

"D-d-don't l-leave me p-please."

Pete's eyes began to well, this was too much suffering for just a bad dream, this went much deeper, and he felt his heart contract in compassion for Jane on a whole new level.

"Alright Patrick, shhh I'll stay right here." He patted the bony arm gently.

"Let me call the nurse and have her bring the medicine, okay?" He pushed the call button.

Patrick nodded, the shaking was starting to subside and the his eyes were clearer and more focused. Jane's breath no longer rattled and wheezed in distress, his heart rate was still too high and he was clearly still distraught but he seemed a little calmer.

" Yes?"

"This is Dr. Crandall, I need someone to bring me .5 mgs of klonipin and a pitcher of ice water, and please hurry."

"Right away doctor."

"Hang in there buddy, help's coming. Just try to breathe."

After watching the terror in Patrick's eyes Pete found his heart breaking for Patrick, and he became more than a patient. It was a strange sensation, but Pete felt a connection with this man that went far beyond the clinical relationship, and it didn't bother him at all.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: The long awaited update is here. It is short but important. Insert apologies and excuses here.

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Lisbon tossed and turned trying in vain to sleep. All she could think about was Jane, her gut twisting at the thought of his wasted and pale body withering away alone in the hospital miles away.

_There has to be some way to get through this without losing him… Losing him… Oh God I can't lose him._

The revelation still reverberating in her ears she gave up on sleep. With the speed and surety of someone who has made a decision she dressed, left her apartment, and headed to Concord.

###################################################

Grace sat on her knees in her quiet and dark bedroom praying, praying for Patrick Jane. She always prayed for him, but she felt the need for the ritual of kneeling in supplication, it soothed her soul and gave her a strength and focus to her prayers that she didn't get with less formal prayers.

_Dear God I lift Patrick up to you. Heal him Lord, and take away the cancer eating away at his body. Lord you know how he has suffered and I pray that you ease his burden now, take away his pain and heal his body and soul. _

###################################################Rigsby was dreaming about getting Red John. Jane didn't know it but Wayne Rigsby felt vengeance of his own towards Red John. What that monster had done to Jane and then Bosco made Rigsby's jaw and fists clench with tightly controlled rage. Beneath his Labrador puppy image laid a man of conviction and passion. In his dreams Wayne finds himself catching Red John and keeping him somewhere secluded waiting for Jane to arrive and have his revenge. Wayne is always a willing participant, and when he wakes he feels a combination of relief and horror over the things his dream self has done. This is where he was now, on that cusp of wake and sleep where the dream is the most intense. He can see the Jane's face locked in enigmatic concentration as he carved away on his captive. The smell of blood and its coppery tang fills the air. The sound of Red John's whimpers and begging fill him with deep satisfaction that resonates in his soul.

###################################################

Cho was sitting outside his favorite all night diner in his car, vacillating between reading and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep, and his mind kept returning to the moment he realized Jane was in trouble. He couldn't let it go; he should have realized something was wrong.

_Jane is never that quiet. _

Amidst his recriminations a thought crept in continually, the thought that somehow Patrick Jane mattered to him, the possibility of Jane dying made him sick. He hadn't worried about anyone like that in a long time and he never expected Jane, of all people, to get through his barriers and make him care.

###################################################

Red John waited for his chance to see Patrick and leave his gift. He had to the compulsion to look at Jane's broken body to drink in his suffering like nectar. Jane had given him so much to feel and challenged his mind that to lose him was not conceivable. He would not lose his playmate…His friend. Anyone who stood in the way of Patrick's full recovery would pay dearly.

###################################################

After what was a few hours of blissfully calm sleep, Jane began to stir. Pete watched as he sat sipping his coffee his case notes spread out in front of him. He'd sat here for hours watching and waiting to make sure Patrick was okay, only leaving long enough for coffee and to bring his work back with him and dozing in and out. It was an unusual situation for him to be here, but then again _nothing _about this scenario was usual. He sighed and began returning to his notes when a blue eye caught his attention.

"Good morning."

Jane stared in silence.

"You okay?" There was still no response from Jane, his gaze never wavering from Pete's. Pete began to be worried by Patrick's silence.

"Patrick?" His brow furrowed with interest and he stood and walked to the bedside.

Jane's eyes followed without expression in them and the only thing that let the doctor know he was aware was the expectant flinch when Patrick saw the penlight coming towards him.

"Aha you are in there. What gives? Cat got your tongue?" The look on Jane's face became more recognizable as resignation, but still no response from him verbally.

"Patrick, I'm going to need you to answer me okay? Just so I know you're okay."

Jane turned his head away and sighed. Pete looked at him nonplussed.

"Come on buddy tell me what's going on."

Jane's fascination with the ceiling continued but he raised his bony left arm and pointed towards Pete.

"Me? What about me?"

The arm hung there like specter beginning to tremble with the effort.

_What the hell are you trying to say to me Patrick? And damnit why won't you say something?_

"What are you trying to tell me? Come on buddy I am trying to help but I don't understand."

That elicited a quiet sigh from Patrick his arm was getting lower and lower but still pointed ominously.

"So it's not me it must be behi—"Pete turned around and his knees almost buckled at the sight he beheld.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Here is an update that has been a long time coming. No excuses, except to say that I have been afflicted with RL and a horrendous case of the _I don't feel like writing _blues.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own

Read it and if you want review it

############################################################

The horror of the grisly artwork was nothing compared to the thought that Red John had been in the room with them, followed by the realization that this was somebody's blood on the wall. The note was none too helpful either.

_Dr. Crandall,_

_I am pleased you have taken me seriously concerning Patrick's well-being. This lovely bit of art is here to remind you just what the consequences of displeasing me will be._

_Your Friend,_

_Red John_

Patrick sighed in exhaustion and resignation. He was running out of energy for this game. The only thing keeping him here was the safety of his team and the Doctor's family. The smiley face on the wall just reinforced the futility of holding on. Still he couldn't let his desire to be finished with this life cause the death of others so somehow he found the strength to go on and spoke.

"Call Lisbon, now, and don't touch anything." Just that much effort wore him out and he was asleep again.

Pete shook his head and took his cell phone in his trembling hand and called Teresa Lisbon.

Lisbon woke with a start at the shrill ring of her phone. Momentarily thankful for the reprieve from her nightmares, but a look at the clock soon made her feel nothing but dread. No good calls happen at this time of night.

"Lisbon."

"Agent Lisbon, you better get down here."

She heard the shakiness in Pete Crandall's voice and it terrified her.

"Jane?" Was all she could manage.

"No, Patrick is okay, ummm it's Red John." He said softly.

Suddenly her blood ran like ice through her veins. "We'll be right there. Don't touch anything."

"Okay, please hurry." He said plaintively.

"It'll be all right Dr. Crandall, we'll be there soon."

"Thanks."

He hung up and walked over to Patrick's bed watching him sleep. _How do you stand it Patrick? _

"I'm so sorry Patrick. I just didn't know." He whispered.

Jane heard him in his light sleep and without opening his eyes he replied. "It's me who's sorry Pete. I just want this all to end."

Pete sighed and placed his hand on Patrick's arm. "I know buddy, I know."

###########################################################

Lisbon called the whole team in, they were in the Suburban headed to Concord in 20 minutes, the forensics team following behind in the evidence van.

"What's going on Boss?" Cho asked after they hit the highway.

"I'm not exactly sure, but Dr. Crandall said that Red John had been there. Why don't you call him back and see if you can get some details?"

Cho began calling the doctor back. "Dr. Crandall, this is agent Kimball Cho. Agent Lisbon wanted me to let you know we are on the way and to ask you some questions."

"Sure, thanks."

"What makes you think Red John has been there?"

"Uhhh maybe the huge creepy smiley face written in blood on Patrick's hospital room wall. Oh and he left a note, well more of a warning really."

Cho swallowed knowing that the smiley face meant there was at least one victim out there. "Thank you, Doctor. We'll be there in an hour or so."

"Please get here soon."

"We will, remember don't touch anything."

"I won't."

Cho closed the phone visibly shaken.

"What?" Rigsby asked.

"It's Red John."

"How do you know?" Grace asked.

"He left the face."

"Oh my God!" Grace gasped. "That means…"

"Yeah, I know." He deadpanned.

Lisbon pushed the accelerator down urging the SUV to hurry.

"Anything else Cho?" Lisbon asked.

"Yeah, there was also a note; the Doc said it was a warning."

############################################################

Pete collapsed into the chair on the other side of Patrick's bed in an effort to keep Patrick from having to look at the horror on the other wall. He reached out and held his friend's hand hoping to bring him some small comfort.

"Pete?"

"Yeah Patrick?"

"I feel funny."

"What do you mean?"

"My head, it feels kind of weird."

Pete jumped up out of the chair and whipped his penlight out and checked Patrick's pupil response. Suddenly Patrick's eyes rolled up into his head and he began seizing.

"Shit! I need some help in here!" He hollered.

The seizure was violent and took all of Pete's strength to keep Patrick from hurting himself.

The nurse ran in. Pete yelled at her to get 2mgs Ativan IV push. The seizure lasted for another minute before Patrick quit thrashing around.

Lisbon and Cho arrived just as things were calming down.

"What happened?" Lisbon asked.

"He had a seizure."

"I thought he was on meds for that?" Cho said.

"He is. We need to get him another EEG. Hopefully it was just the stress of that." He pointed to the wall behind them.

"If it wasn't that then what?"

"Well let's just run some tests so we know what we're looking at."

Lisbon could tell by the tone of the doctor's voice that Jane having a seizure was a very bad thing. She looked down at the ghost of the man she once knew to be vibrant and cocky, so _alive_ and couldn't help wondering if that man was gone forever.


End file.
